Lake Cabin Secrets

My beautiful wife and I traveled for our annual anniversary weekend to a secluded mountain cabin in North Carolina. We both appreciated the remoteness and privacy offered by the cabin, situated on its own private lake. Mary and I could indulge in whatever we desired without fear of disturbing our neighbors. Upon arrival, we showered and changed, then prepared dinner on the screened-in porch, savoring the sunset. Mary took the dishes inside while I poured more wine.

As dusk settled over the private pond, frogs began their evening serenade. We reminisced about our wedding day, our marriage, and particularly about the past three years – the time I became convinced that God wanted to change my heart regarding our marriage and our sexual relationship.

I shared my feelings with Mary, acknowledging my self-centeredness in our relationship, especially in the marriage bed. Shortly after, we spent a week in this very cabin, marking the beginning of Mary’s sexual awakening. It wasn't her fault that our lovemaking during the first 35 or so years of our marriage had been lackluster for her.

The truth was, for most of those years, I was oblivious to her body and what it takes to truly pleasure a woman. Coupled with my natural self-centeredness, sex had become more of a perfunctory obligation than an anticipated experience. That week, we made love at least once a day. I introduced several new toys, hoping to enhance her enjoyment of our sexual union.

God had truly worked some miracles in our hearts since that week in the cabin. Our journey of mutual discovery had awakened her senses and her sexuality. She seemed genuinely surprised that she could derive pleasure from something that had previously been so unfulfilling.

Even more profoundly, we embraced an intimacy that extended beyond the physical realm, permeating all aspects of our lives. Despite being in our early sixties, we are more deeply in love with each other each passing day. We’re closer, growing more vulnerable and open to one another. We’ve become soulmates.

As the sun finally disappeared behind the trees, we went inside to clean the dishes. After our passionate encounter, we fell asleep naked, a practice not often afforded to us at home due to the presence of our six children. However, without the threat of their intrusion, we took advantage of this newfound privacy.

I awoke several hours later, propped against the headboard, simply observing Mary as she slept next to me. She had rolled onto her back with her left hand resting on her stomach, wearing the ring I had given her over 40 years ago. Her face was turned towards her left, in my direction, and she looked utterly lovely and peaceful.

I’ve learned over the years that warmth is essential to her comfort. Knowing it was a crisp early autumn night, I cranked up the heat to ensure she was cozy. She always prefers a sheet (or two) covering her while sleeping, but one had slipped down to her abdomen where her hand rested. This provided an opportunity for me to observe her closely.

My gaze shifted from her face to her chest. Her breasts, appearing golden in the soft light, rose and fell with each breath she took. In our wedding night, I hadn’t imagined experiencing so much pleasure from them. I remembered the first time I accidentally brushed against her breast while dating and the intoxicating feeling that surged through me. Then I recalled seeing her naked body on our wedding night, years ago, and the privilege of finally being able to touch her breasts with my hands and lips without guilt or shame. What a blessing it was!

In our early years of marriage, before the children arrived, Mary seemed to derive considerable enjoyment from my gentle fondling and sucking on her breasts. I pondered with wonder how God had blessed her fountains with an abundance to nourish all six of our children. Once the babies came and she began nursing, much of her enjoyment of my breast stimulation diminished. When her milk came in, breast and nipple stimulation would irritate her already sore nipples.

Yet, there were exceptions. Occasionally, she would become engorged, particularly if she had been away from the baby for a few hours, and would request my assistance in alleviating the pressure. As a devoted husband, I always obliged.

One instance, in particular, stands out in my memory. She had gone on an all-day women’s retreat, and upon her return, she was in pain. I had fed the baby from the expressed milk she had stored before leaving, and the child was now asleep. Mary begged me to relieve her discomfort.

As she undressed, I couldn't take my eyes off her engorged breasts. I spent at least ten minutes on each breast, savoring the exquisite taste of her liquid gold while simultaneously using my tongue in a way that didn’t bother the baby. That night, we both became exceptionally aroused, reaching a fever pitch of excitement. She orgasmed almost as soon as I entered her without any clit stimulation – the only time I’ve witnessed that happen!

As waves of pleasure washed over her, the swollen mounds released a torrent of delicious milk over our bodies with each orgasmic wave. We both laughed as I lapped it all up. It’s been over twenty years since she stopped nursing our last baby, and her breasts seem to have reawakened to enjoy my touch. Yes, her breasts have a history, and as I lay there watching her sleep, my body stirred with these memories.

My eyes moved downward, and I remembered how her stomach had swelled with each of her pregnancies as she bore our children. With her abdominal muscles weakened, she no longer possessed the flat belly of our early years of marriage. The curves of her stomach serve as a reminder of the love that helped create those children – they are a testament to her fertility and motherhood.

She often feels unattractive, believing her body is average. I’ve consistently reassured her that she has always been a beautiful, desirable woman. And now, as I gaze upon her form again, the notion that any part of her could be off-putting to me seems more preposterous than ever before.

Every part of her is—and remains—beautiful to me. I gently pulled back the sheet and observed the curly dark hair between her legs, recalling the first time I ever touched that spot. Just looking at that area was enough to arouse me even further. As I lay there watching her sleep, my mind replayed the events of the evening before:

We were cleaning up the dishes last night when Mary suddenly wrapped her arms around me and started nibbling on my earlobe. I had been semi-hard for a while, but that nibbling instantly made my cock rock hard. I pulled her close and kissed her aggressively. After a few minutes, I pulled back slightly and just looked at her.

“I still can’t believe you are all mine,” I exclaimed.

She smiled at me. “I love you, George…so much. Now I want you to undress me.”

Happy to oblige her, I allowed her to unbutton her blouse and pushed it off her shoulders. Then she pulled down her jeans, revealing a matching black lace bra and panty set. She must have planned this little surprise for me before we left. I hadn't seen these before, and she looked very sexy in them. The low-cut bra barely held in her breasts.

“Let me help you with that bra,” I said.

She stopped me before I could undo her bra.

“Before you do that, I need to do something about the fact that you are wearing too many clothes, mister.”

She unbuttoned my shirt and pushed it off. Putting her hands on my abs, she ran them up and all over my chest. She leaned in and started kissing me along the collarbone – the easiest place for her to reach due to our height difference. I shuddered and again tried to undo her bra, but she pulled away and stopped me once more.

“Pants off, first.”

Locking her gaze with mine, she undid my belt and pants, pushed them and my briefs down with one motion. Then she stood back to admire me.

“Now who’s wearing too many clothes?” I asked.

She reached up to hold my face in her hands.

“You’re so handsome, and you turn me on,” she murmured as she gently kissed me, holding on to my lower lip with her lips ever so slightly.

Her hands moved down to my chest, playing briefly with my nipples, which sent my cock from just hard to throbbing. I contemplated with wonder how God had blessed her fountains with an abundance to nourish all six of our kids. Once the babies came and she started nursing, much of her enjoyment of my breast stimulation evaporated. When her milk came in, breast and nipple stimulation would irritate her already sore nipples.

There were exceptions though. Occasionally, she would become engorged, especially if she had been away from the baby a few hours and would ask me to “help” relieve her pressure. As a good husband, I always dutifully complied.

One of those occasions, in particular, was memorable. She had gone on an all-day women’s retreat, and when she returned, she was in pain. I had fed the baby from the milk she had expressed before she left, and the child was now asleep. Mary begged me to relieve her discomfort.

As she undressed, I couldn’t take my eyes off her engorged breasts. I spent at least ten minutes on each breast, savoring the exquisite taste of her liquid gold but also using my tongue in a way that the baby didn’t. That night, we had both become highly aroused, so much so that she orgasmed almost as soon as I entered her without any clit stimulation—the only time I remember that happening!

As the waves of pleasure washed over her, the swollen mounds shot hot streams of delicious milk over our bodies with each orgasmic wave. We both laughed as I lapped all of it up. It has been over 20 years since she stopped nursing our last baby, and her breasts seem to be reawakening to enjoy my touch. Yes, her breasts have a history, and as I lay there watching her sleep, I felt my body begin to stir at these memories.

My eyes traveled down to her stomach, and I remembered how it had swelled with each of her pregnancies as she bore our children. With her abdominal muscles weakened, she no longer had the flat belly of our early years of marriage. The curves of her stomach remind me of how our love helped to create those children. They are the mark of her fertility and motherhood.

She frequently thinks of herself as unattractive, that her body is average. I’ve done my best to reassure her with words that, in my eyes, she has always been a beautiful, attractive woman. And now that I gaze at her form again, the idea that any part of her could be a turn off for me seemed more preposterous than it had been when she had mentioned it in the past.

Every part of her was—and remains—beautiful to me. I gently pulled back the sheet and looked at the curly dark hair between her legs, remembering the first time I ever touched her there. Just looking at that part of her aroused me even more than I already was. As I lay there watching her sleep, my mind replayed the evening before:

We were cleaning up the dishes last night when Mary suddenly wrapped her arms around me and started nibbling on my earlobe. I’d been semi-hard for a while by then, but that nibbling instantly made my cock rock hard. I pulled her close and kissed her aggressively. After a few minutes, I pulled back slightly and just looked at her.

“I still can’t believe you are all mine,” I exclaimed.

She smiled at me. “I love you, George…so much. Now I want you to undress me.”

Happy to oblige her, I let her go long enough to unbutton her blouse and pushed it off her shoulders. Then she pulled down her jeans, revealing a matching black lace bra and panty set. She must have planned this little surprise for me before we left. I hadn't seen these before, and she looked very sexy in them. The low-cut bra barely held in her breasts.

“Let me help you with that bra,” I said.

She stopped me before I could undo her bra.

“Before you do that, I need to do something about the fact that you are wearing too many clothes, mister.”

She unbuttoned my shirt and pushed it off. Putting her hands on my abs, she ran them up and all over my chest. She leaned in and starting kissing me along the collarbone—the easiest place for her to reach due to our height difference. I shuddered and again tried to undo her bra, but she pulled away and stopped me once more.

“Pants off, first.”

Locking her gaze with mine, she undid my belt and pants, pushed them and my briefs down with one motion. Then she stood back to admire me.

“Now who’s wearing too many clothes?” I asked.

She reached up to hold my face in her hands.

“You’re so handsome, and you turn me on,” she murmured as she gently kissed me, holding on to my lower lip with her lips ever so slightly.

Her hands moved down to my chest, playing briefly with my nipples, which sent my cock from just hard to throbbing. I contemplated with wonder how God had blessed her fountains with an abundance to nourish all six of our kids. Once the babies came and she started nursing, much of her enjoyment of my breast stimulation evaporated. When her milk came in, breast and nipple stimulation would irritate her already sore nipples.

There were exceptions though. Occasionally, she would become engorged, especially if she had been away from the baby a few hours and would ask me to “help” relieve her pressure. As a good husband, I always dutifully complied.

One of those occasions, in particular, was memorable. She had gone on an all-day women’s retreat, and when she returned, she was in pain. I had fed the baby from the milk she had expressed before she left, and the child was now asleep. Mary begged me to relieve her discomfort.

As she undressed, I couldn’t take my eyes off her engorged breasts. I spent at least ten minutes on each breast, savoring the exquisite taste of her liquid gold but also using my tongue in a way that the baby didn’t. That night, we had both become highly aroused, so much so that she orgasmed almost as soon as I entered her without any clit stimulation—the only time I remember that happening!

As the waves of pleasure washed over her, the swollen mounds shot hot streams of delicious milk over our bodies with each orgasmic wave. We both laughed as I lapped all of it up. It has been over 20 years since she stopped nursing our last baby, and her breasts seem to be reawakening to enjoy my touch. Yes, her breasts have a history, and as I lay there watching her sleep, I felt my body begin to stir at these memories.

My eyes traveled down to her stomach, and I remembered how it had swelled with each of her pregnancies as she bore our children. With her abdominal muscles weakened, she no longer had the flat belly of our early years of marriage. The curves of her stomach remind me of how our love helped to create those children. They are the mark of her fertility and motherhood.

She frequently thinks of herself as unattractive, that her body is average. I’ve done my best to reassure her with words that, in my eyes, she has always been a beautiful, attractive woman. And now that I gaze at her form again, the idea that any part of her could be a turn off for me seemed more preposterous than it had been when she had mentioned it in the past.

Every part of her was—and remains—beautiful to me. I gently pulled back the sheet and looked at the curly dark hair between her legs, remembering the first time I ever touched her there. Just looking at that part of her aroused me even more than I already was. As I lay there watching her sleep, my mind replayed the evening before:

We were cleaning up the dishes last night when Mary suddenly wrapped her arms around me and started nibbling on my earlobe. I’d been semi-hard for a while by then, but that nibbling instantly made my cock rock hard. I pulled her close and kissed her aggressively. After a few minutes, I pulled back slightly and just looked at her.

“I still can’t believe you are all mine,” I exclaimed.

She smiled at me. “I love you, George…so much. Now I want you to undress me.”

Happy to oblige her, I let her go long enough to unbutton her blouse and pushed it off her shoulders. Then she pulled down her jeans, revealing a matching black lace bra and panty set. She must have planned this little surprise for me before we left. I hadn't seen these before, and she looked very sexy in them. The low-cut bra barely held in her breasts.

“Let me help you with that bra,” I said.

She stopped me before I could undo her bra.

“Before you do that, I need to do something about the fact that you are wearing too many clothes, mister.”

She unbuttoned my shirt and pushed it off. Putting her hands on my abs, she ran them up and all over my chest. She leaned in and starting kissing me along the collarbone—the easiest place for her to reach due to our height difference. I shuddered and again tried to undo her bra, but she pulled away and stopped me once more.

“Pants off, first.”

Locking her gaze with mine, she undid my belt and pants, pushed them and my briefs down with one motion. Then she stood back to admire me.

“Now who’s wearing too many clothes?” I asked.

She reached up to hold my face in her hands.

“You’re so handsome, and you turn me on,” she murmured as she gently kissed me, holding on to my lower lip with her lips ever so slightly.

Her hands moved down to my chest, playing briefly with my nipples, which sent my cock from just hard to throbbing. I contemplated with wonder how God had blessed her fountains with an abundance to nourish all six of our kids. Once the babies came and she started nursing, much of her enjoyment of my breast stimulation evaporated. When her milk came in, breast and nipple stimulation would irritate her already sore nipples.

There were exceptions though. Occasionally, she would become engorged, especially if she had been away from the baby a few hours and would ask me to “help” relieve her pressure. As a good husband, I always dutifully complied.

One of those occasions, in particular, was memorable. She had gone on an all-day women’s retreat, and when she returned, she was in pain. I had fed the baby from the milk she had expressed before she left, and the child was now asleep. Mary begged me to relieve her discomfort.

As she undressed, I couldn’t take my eyes off her engorged breasts. I spent at least ten minutes on each breast, savoring the exquisite taste of her liquid gold but also using my tongue in a way that the baby didn’t. That night, we

Did you like this story? Lake Cabin Secrets look, but like these, here Mother sex stories.